


Right men, bad place

by Anathema Device (notowned)



Series: What makes us who we are [3]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, No Sexual Content, Violence against women, misogynistic language, threatened violence against women and children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 20:49:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7589629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notowned/pseuds/Anathema%20Device
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“What is it you want?” Athos said. </i>
  <br/>
  <i>“I want my fucking wife back,” he said. “And if the police don’t bring her here in three hours, I’m going to shoot one of you every hour until they do.”</i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>In which a man, a bomb, and a room full of innocent people makes Athos relive his worst nightmare. This time, d'Artagnan is there for the ride.</p><p>Won't make a lick of sense unless you've read at least the first part of the series, but follows on from the second part, some months later</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right men, bad place

Athos rose, as he did most mornings, just before Sylvie’s alarm went off, so he could wake her with a kiss and a “Good morning, darling,” leaving her to get ready at her own pace, while he went to the kitchen to put the kettle on and make toast. By the time she walked out, dressed and yawning, he had her breakfast ready for her.

“Good morning, love,” she said, kissed him and stroking his face. “Sleep well?”

“Yes.” It was a serious question between them. His PTSD was under control, at last, but there was nothing that could be done about nightmares. Sylvie knew that, and knew his love for her had no impact on that part of his brain. She still cared though, that they tormented him. A night when he didn’t remember waking in terror at least, was always treasured. She knew that too.

“Good.” She sat down.” Taking Annie to the playgroup this morning, yeah?”

“Yes, and I’ll swing by the market on the way home. TGIF?”

She groaned. “Is it ever. Whose idea was it for me to go back to teaching?”

He waved. “Sorry, darling.”

“Don’t be. It’s just insanity right now—not close enough to Xmas to cheer people up, close enough that the kids are starting to taste it.”

Athos let her finish her breakfast in peace, and as she left for work, stopped her at the door to kiss her. “Have a good day, love.”

She held her face between her hands. “You too. Supper at the boys’ tonight, don’t forget.”

“How could I?” It was one of their favourite nights of any week, an invitation at Porthos’s and Aramis’s place. “See you later.”

Now it was time to get Annie out of bed and feed her. His daily routine was centred around his three-year-old stepdaughter’s, and would be for years to come. He was perfectly happy with that. For too long his life had revolved around being unable to cope with the world. Now he was part of the world again, and loving every bit of it.

He took his time with Annie. Breakfast was sometimes a bit of a battle, but that morning she happily ate her Weetabix and banana, before sitting down on the floor to play while he drank tea and ate some toast, watching her, talking to her.

And then it was Bernie’s turn. She was awake when he took a cup of tea into her. “How are you feeling today?” he asked, helping her to sit.

“Pretty good, Athos. Might even pay a visit to Margaret while you and Annie are out.” Margaret was one of her oldest friends in the block. Both of them had mobility issues so visits were rare enough.

“And you remember Sylvie and I are out for dinner? I’ll have everything ready for you before we go.”

She patted his cheek. “You always do. You’re a good man.” They heard Annie cry out in the living room, and Athos, by now an expert in cry interpretation, was on his feet before Bernie could say, “Better go see.”

Annie had hit her head on the kitchen table again. She was always walking underneath it and straightening up, forgetting she was now too tall to do that without colliding with the top. Athos picked her up and soothed her. “There, there, baby girl,” he murmured, rubbing the abused cranium. As usual, the tears disappeared fast, and once gone, were as if they had never been.

“Thos, we go play?”

“Yes, love, we’re going to the play group today.”

“I wear _big_ shoes.” She escaped his arms and went off in search of her wellies, which she had been proudly stomping around in since the weather had turned cold. Today was cold again but probably not wet, so she didn’t need them but Athos was unconcerned. Months of experience had taught him that Annie would have changed her mind about which shoes she wanted to wear three times before she found the wellies, and would just as likely change her mind before they walked out the door. With luck she’d have picked suitable ones, and there wouldn’t be a meltdown on the doorstep. He and Sylvie were both braced for the ‘terrible twos’, more accurately the ‘terrible threes’, with Annie now nearly at that age and already learning the power of the word ‘no’ to drive her parents right up the wall.

The children’s centre was a bus ride away. Annie sat on Athos’s lap and listened to him describing what they saw out of the windows. He talked to her all the time, whether she seemed to understand or not. Sylvie had told him that children understood more than you thought, and it was how their brains developed. She was a strong believer in ‘throw everything at them and hope something sticks’ and Athos was content to do whatever she advised. Watching Annie’s language ability change and grow with every passing day, as her physical skills had done in the time since he’d met the two of them, was utterly fascinating. And, he freely admitted, very often adorable.

He and Annie had been going to the playgroup at the children’s centre since after Xmas, when Sylvie had obtained a full-time teaching contract. He wasn’t the only male carer who went there by any means, nor the oldest, but he was a lot older than the young mums who came there with their little ones, and for a while he'd been regarded with curiosity and some wariness. But by now, he was just Athos, a regular fixture, and his relationship with Annie accepted as perfectly ordinary. How he’d come to be her stepfather, by meeting her wonderful mother under the worst circumstances, no one needed to know, and he had no interest in sharing.

On a chilly day like this, when everyone was inside, all he had to do was watch, and very occasionally comfort or intervene, as Annie played with the other children with the centre-provided toys. The mothers greeted him warmly, then talked amongst themselves. He’d answer if they asked him a question. He still found it hard to initiate conversations with them, not wanting to seem weird or creepy, and without their common background of childbirth and raising children from infancy.

Samira routinely chatted with him though, because her little boy and Annie were fast friends, and right now were engaged in building a tower of blocks.

“Bets on how many before collapse?” Athos whispered to Samira out of the side of his mouth.

“Bets on how many before tears, more likely,” she whispered back. “Ten.”

“No, Nouri’s got this. Thirteen.”

Sadly, Samira guessed right, both on the tears and numbers. “Pay up, Athos. One bourbon biscuit, thanks,” she said as she went over to comfort Nouri and Annie after the disaster.

He handed over the packet when she sat down again. “Ta,” she said. “How’s Sylvie?”

“Doing well. Tired but she expected that. How’s Tariq?”

“Back at work. So glad I didn’t catch his bug.” She covered her mouth. “Oops.”

“Yes, you just jinxed yourself.”

Someone called to him from the playroom door. “Athos? Hey.”

Athos turned and smiled at d’Artagnan, before rising to greet him with a hug. “Charlie, what are you doing here today?”

“Talking to Lenora about the drop in program. How are you?”

“I’m well. And Constance?” They hadn’t seen the two of them since September, a month after they returned from honeymoon.

“Fabulous as ever,” he said proudly. “She’s been talking about inviting you and Sylvie over for dinner again.”

“Of course. Sylvie would love that and so would I.” He took his arm and turned to Samira. “Charlie, this is my friend, Samira Ali. Samira, Charles d’Artagnan. He works at Richmond Police Station.” Samira held out her hand and d’Artagnan shook it. “Her husband works at Kingston. He’s a PC.”

“Really? Cool.” D’Artagnan sat in the empty chair next to Samira. “Are those biscuits? I’m starving, could I have one, please?” Athos handed over the packet. “Skipped breakfast, sorry. Oh my God, thanks,” he added through a mouthful of crumbs.

“Maybe you should just make time for breakfast,” Athos said dryly.

D’Artagnan flushed. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Newlyweds,” Athos said to Samira, who nodded knowingly.

“Ah.” D’Artagnan’s face went even redder. She patted his arm. “Congratulations. When was the wedding?”

“August. Who’s that?”

A man had walked in, wearing a bulky padded coat, and carrying a dufflebag. There was no child with him that Athos could see. His eyes were hooded under heavy dark brows, and he seemed to be checking the place out. The hairs on Athos’s neck went up. The way he looked around the room, the way he carried himself....

D’Artagnan had noticed it too, and watched the man’s every move. Athos turned and said quietly, “Samira, get Nouri and Annie, and go outside now. Don’t argue.” She gave him a startled glance but to his utter relief, she did exactly as he asked, and whisked the two toddlers through the doors to the outside playground.

Chest still tight, Athos touched d’Artagnan’s arm. “We need to get as many of the kids outside as possible.”

D’Artagnan only took a bare second to assess his words, then stood, preparing to move towards the children and their mothers. But in that second, the man had also moved towards the external doors, and he slammed them closed before either Athos or d’Artagnan could get there. “Everyone, sit still!”

He’d pulled a gun from his pocket, a semi-automatic pistol. One of the women gave a yelp of shock, but the other women stayed silent, raw fear in their faces. The children who paid any attention at all, looked up with nothing but curiosity. The man locked the doors, and pointed at Laurie. “You, lock the other door, now. Then pull down the blinds.”

Laurie scrambled up from the floor to obey. Athos sensed d’Artagnan move behind him, and hoped his friend was using the cover to send a message for help. He hoped Samira had realised the need to do so too.

When the doors were locked, and the windows covered, the man motioned Laurie back over to the chairs. “Everyone, get over in that corner. Kids too. Move!”

That put the man in the corner away from the glass doors, with everyone else in full view of the playground. Athos couldn’t see Samira or the children and desperately hoped they had moved well away from the building. There were seven adults and eight children in the room. Two of the children were only babies, not able to walk. Sondra was heavily pregnant. Who else was in the building? D’Artagnan had mentioned Lenora, the centre manager. There was an assistant but Athos couldn’t remember seeing her that morning.

“You.” The man pointed his gun at Sondra. She cringed back. “Take those two babies and get out.”

“My son.” Liam was just two. “Please, let me take him with me too.”

“No. The babies only. Move!”

Sondra climbed to her feet, and Liam toddled over to her. “She can’t carry two babies,” d’Artagnan said politely. “Let someone else go.”

“Shut it or I’ll shoot the babies and save her the trouble.” The man pointed the gun at the other women. “Where are your prams?”

“Please, that’s my baby,” Beth said, her voice catching. “Please let me go with her.” Fleur, the mother of the other baby, had her hand over her mouth.

“Just get a pram.”

“They’re outside.”

“Get it. Don’t make a run for it or I shoot your kid.”

Beth went to the door, and came back a few second later with Sondra’s double pram. “Please. Please, sir. Let me take her.”

The man fired his pistol at the ceiling and the kids screamed. “Next shot goes into your baby. She goes with that one, or she dies.”

As the other women tried to keep their children quiet, Sondra told Beth, “It’s okay. I’ll look after her. Yours too, Fleur. You look after Liam for me.”

D’Artagnan moved to help Sondra put the babies into the pram, persuading Fleur to give hers up. The man watched intently but made no attempt to stop him. Athos watched _him_ , looking for any distraction, any weakness.

When Sondra was ready to leave, the man pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and gave it to her. “Give this to the police. Tell them time starts now. That’s ten seventeen. Get out.” Laurie put her arm around Beth’s shoulder as Sondra left with a despairing look at the remaining hostages. Liam realised his mother was leaving without him and began to cry. Laurie took his hand, and Beth picked him up, tears running down her own face as she tried to comfort him.

“You, sit down,” the man told d’Artagnan, who obeyed promptly.

“What is it you want?” Athos said.

“I want my fucking wife back,” he said. “And if the police don’t bring her here in three hours, I’m going to shoot one of you every hour until they do. If I have to wait more than six hours,” at this point, he opened his coat, revealing a bomb vest, “I’m going to detonate this. Boom.” He smiled at Athos. “So you better hope she turns up. You can all get comfortable. Keep the fucking kids quiet.”

Athos was by no means an expert on bomb vests, but this one looked competently put together. Two packs of [PE-4](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/C-4_\(explosive\)) inside webbing, with blasting caps inserted, the wires running up over his left shoulder and down his back to a detonator on his hip. No dead man’s trigger as far as Athos could see, which was one good thing. Another was the fact the guy wasn’t using a much more unstable explosive which he could accidentally set off by falling or bumping into something. Athos suspected this guy was ex-military, or some kind of expert who knew how to handle explosives. Which was both good and bad for them.

Laurie and Beth had moved from their chairs to the floor, with the still crying Liam, over to Laurie’s Melanie. The other mothers did the same when the man didn’t object. Athos and d’Artagnan stayed in their chairs. Athos wanted to be able to move fast, and he guessed d'Artagnan felt the same.

“You’re not looking after anyone?” the man said.

“Just visiting,” Athos said, and d’Artagnan nodded. Athos was pretty sure none of the mothers knew d’Artagnan was a police officer. They both wanted to keep that secret for now.

“Aren’t you lucky,” the man said. Keep his gun on the two men, he walked over and grabbed one of the chairs, then took it back to his corner to sit down.

“What’s your name?” d’Artagnan asked, posture open and relaxed. “I’m Charlie.”

“I don’t fucking care what your name is. You can call me sir.”

Then they waited, six adults, six children under five. Athos went through the layout of the centre grounds in his mind. The back of the centre could only be accessed by a driveway beside it. The playground was bounded by a tall brick wall shared by the houses behind it. The front faced the road. With the curtains drawn, the playroom wasn’t visible to the outside except from the playground. A short awning prevented a clear line of sight from over the brick wall, and anyone coming into the playground was clearly visible to anyone in the room, and especially to the gunman.

The declared six-hour deadline would come well before he grew tired and fell asleep, and before night could provide any cover for someone trying to approach from the playground. The guy had probably it that way. Maybe he was ex-police force? Ex-military seemed a good fit though.

Their best hope was for an Armed Response Unit to arrive and begin negotiations with the man. The question was how soon would the alarm be raised. When would Lenora realise there was a problem? Maybe she already had. The phones outside were not being answered. Good if that were true, Athos thought. No chance of her trying the door and being shot when she unlocked it.

 _Sirens_. He made himself relax. Okay, now it was on.

*********************************

Constance looked at her phone, then ran to Treville’s office. “Sir, a text from d’Artagnan. There’s a hostage situation at the Riverside Children’s centre. He’s in the building. Athos is there too. ”

Treville grabbed her phone. “Shit.”

Brujon came to his office door. “Sir, we have a reports of an armed hostage taker at a children’s centre.”

“Yes, I know. Riverside.” Treville went out to the main office. “Everyone, your full attention. I want to know what we know about the hostage situation. We also have a report from DC d’Artagnan who’s possibly still inside the building.”

Information came in even as Treville absorbed the first reports. A Met officer’s wife had raised the alarm, having escaped with two children, followed calls from the centre manager, neighbours who’d reported gunshots, and a young mother who’d been sent out of the centre with two babies, neither of them hers. She brought a note from the gunman with his contact details and his demand to have his estranged wife brought to him within three hours or hostages would be killed.

“[AFOs ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Authorised_Firearms_Officer) outside the building now,” Brujon reported. “They’ve made contact with the gunman.”

“Right. And the wife?”

“Trying to locate her now.”

“Sir, Athos’s wife.” Constance tried to keep her voice calm, though all she could think of was _Charlie_. “I should try and contact her.”

“Yes, do that, Constance. You and Brujon, come with me.”

“And, sir...what about Charlie?

Treville slowed briefly to give her a sympathetic look. “If he’s still inside, let’s hope the gunman doesn’t know he’s an officer. Let the negotiators do their job.”

Her heart was still trying to climb out through her throat, but she nodded, and concentrated on trying to make contact with Sylvie. Where was Annie?

*********************************

D’Artagnan’s phone rang while the gunman was talking to the hostage negotiator. Athos could see the screen and the caller’s name. _Porthos_. D’Artagnan ignored it, but the gunman interrupted his conversation. “Answer it.” He went back to talking to the AFO, apparently unconcerned that his hostages had contact with the outside world.

D’Artagnan picked up. “Hey. Yeah. I heard. Yeah. I’m here with him. Inside.” Porthos’s anguished shout was audible even to Athos. “Find Constance, tell her Annie is outside. Her dad is fine. Bye.”

“Thank you,” Athos murmured.

The gunman was now shouting into the phone. “I don’t care how long it takes you to find her, mate. You have one hour and forty three minutes until I kill someone.”

The man put his mobile away. Athos now knew his name was Robert, his wife Céline, and they had small children. None of that helped at the moment, but all information was valuable. “Any of you want to call your families? Go right ahead, use your phones. Might be the last time any of them hear from you.”

It wasn’t mercy, Athos knew. Robert was trying to put more pressure on the police through panicked relatives, one or more of which were bound to call the press. For that reason, Athos didn’t call Sylvie or Bernie. Instead he texted Porthos and asked him to contact them himself, tell them to wait for Constance or the police to get in touch and not to call his phone or speak to the press. _I’m safe, am well. Tell her I love her._

D’Artagnan had also chosen to text. Most of the women were talking to their partners, Laurie was texting. All of them were in tears.

The children were growing fractious, bored or upset. Already the scent of dirty nappies filled the air. Would Robert’s patience last once he had to listen to and smell six screaming toddlers?

Athos received a text from Constance two minutes later. _A with CPS. S on way. Don’t be a hero_

He replied. _Thanks. Pls call P’thos_

He deleted the message, then worked on his breathing, on not letting panic overcome him. Afterwards he could fall apart. Now, he had to be strong.

*********************************

“Constance!”

“Sylvie.” Constance held out her arms and Sylvie ran into them. “Annie’s safe. She’s here. Come with me.”

The child protection officer had Annie in the back seat of a patrol car. As soon as Sylvie opened the door, Annie leapt into her arms. “Oh my God, come here, baby girl.” Sylvie hugged her daughter, tears in her eyes. “Athos?” she asked Constance.

“Is fine. I texted him and he replied. I called Porthos. He’s on his way to sit with your mum.”

“Thank you. Where’s Charlie?”

“With Athos.”

Sylvie’s eyes grew huge. “How? Both of them?”

“He was on an outreach visit.”

She clutched at Constance’s arm. “I’m sorry. Are you all right?”

“I’m okay. You know.” Despite herself, her eyes filled up. “I wish I could _do_ something.”

“Me too. I should take Annie home, but I don’t want to leave you on your own.”

“I’m all right. You should go.”

“I can wait a bit.”

A tall, dark-haired man moved out from the crowd of onlookers. _Aramis_. Constance’s knees went weak with relief. “Sylvie? Love, are you all right? Constance, I’m so sorry.”

He threw his arms around them both and drew them close. “I came down in Porthos’s place. What’s happening?”

“Nothing,” Constance said. “Charlie and Athos are both inside, both safe for now.”

Aramis nodded. “Porthos just messaged me. Do you want me to take Annie home, Sylvie?”

“Are you staying?”

“Yes, as long as it takes.”

“Then please let me take her home and see Mum. Constance, I’ll come back.”

“There’s no need—” Constance shut up at Sylvie’s look. “Okay. Thanks.”

“By the way, Sylvie, Athos asks that you not to call his phone.”

Sylvie looked confused. “Charlie said the man is trying to upset the relatives,” Constance explained. “You can text him, but personally I’d advise you not to.”

“If that’s the best thing, I will. Do you think someone could give me a lift back to the flat?”

“I’ll make sure they do.” Glad to be able to do something useful, Constance seconded a PC to drive Sylvie back home and to wait for her.

Aramis followed Constance, and as soon as Sylvie had gone, put his arm around her shoulder again. “Are you working, Constance _querido_?” She felt terrible for finding such comfort from the strength of his arm, so like Charlie’s, but at the moment, she’d take anything that got her through this.

“Officially. I don’t think Treville expects me to stay if—” Her voice just gave up, and she buried her face in his shoulder. “What...what if...?”

He held her close and stroked her hair while she sobbed, totally unprofessionally. At least she hadn’t wept all over the guv’nor.

“I’m sorry,” she gasped out.

“Don’t be ridiculous, sweetheart,” he murmured. “If Porthos was in there, I’d be a wreck. Come, let’s find you somewhere to sit. You are so not working today.”

*********************************

D’Artagnan glanced at his phone, then tensed up. Athos looked over at the phone screen, then up at the room’s clock and realised the reason. **1:15**. The negotiators had been in constant contact with Robert, but there had been no sign of his wife, nor any indication there would be.

Robert stood up. “Oh dear. Looks like I’m going to have to choose someone after all. You, get up.” He pointed at Laurie.

“No. Please. Not in front of my kid.”

“I said, get _up_.” He hauled her to her feet then moved back.

Athos jumped up and stood in front of Laurie. “No, pick me. I don’t have a kid.”

Robert pursed his lips, thinking. “All right. Over here.” He motioned Athos away from Laurie.

“Athos, don’t,” D’Artagnan said quietly, his hands on his thighs. He was too far away to jump the man before he shot someone. Athos shook his head. The hostages needed a real officer to be with them. He hoped Sylvie would understand that.

Still watching Athos, Robert picked up his mobile and hit a button. “It’s time. Is Céline here?” He listened. “That’s unfortunate. Now I’ll have to kill someone.”

He put the phone back in his pocket, and ignored its angry buzzing. The clock behind him ticked over. **1:16**.

“You don’t have to do this,” Athos said, keeping his voice calm. “Once you kill someone, you’ll never walk out of here alive.”

“I didn’t plan to.”

“Suicide isn’t the answer. Trust me, I’ve been in your place. You can always come back, no matter how dark things are—”

Robert sneered. “Jesus, shut up. I don’t need some git trying to psychoanalyse me.”

“Robert, you’ve got the attention you want. Why not work on your problems with Céline?”

“The way she learned from the people here? The ones who convinced her to leave me? I don’t think so. You have ten seconds.” He raised his gun and aimed it at Athos’s head.

Athos closed his eyes. _Sylvie, I love you._

Time seemed to be moving so slowly.

_Just fucking shoot, you wanker._

A gunshot, chairs fell over and the screaming started. Athos swayed, opened his eyes. Laurie had fallen across an empty chair before she hit the ground, blood all over the floor and wall behind her. Robert smirked at Athos. “And that’s what happens when anyone tries to get me to change my mind. Go sit down, and next time, keep your mouth shut.”

Athos couldn’t make himself move. He couldn’t stop staring at Laurie’s body, all the blood. He heard Melanie screaming for her mummy, and mothers trying to comfort her and the other babies. A woman, maybe Fleur, was sobbing brokenly.

“Athos.” Someone took his arm. _D’Artagnan._ He let d’Artagnan lead him back to a chair, and urge him to sit. Robert was taking photos of Laurie and grinning as if he’d played the best joke ever on them all.

Athos had failed to save them again.

*********************************

Constance jumped as she heard a gunshot and people screaming inside the children’s centre. “Charlie!” She pulled out of Aramis’s arms and ran to find Treville. He was on the phone as she approached. His face said it all. She put her hand over her mouth.

Treville put the phone down. “It’s not him. One of the mothers. Laurie. The gunman has sent photos of her body. ”

She went weak with relief, then felt sick because that meant a young woman had been killed, possibly in front of her child. “Oh God. What are they _doing_?” It had been hours.

“They’re trying to convince his wife to talk to him. She’s terrified of him, not surprisingly. She refuses to come anywhere near here.”

“No, of course not.” They had learned that the gunman, who was ex-Army, was abusive and his wife had fled with their kids to a women’s refuge after gaining advice from one of the domestic violence support sessions held at this very centre. Constance definitely didn’t want her or any other woman near this bastard.

But she didn't want anyone's husband near him either.

Treville put his hand on her arm. “Constance, you should go home. Aramis, please take her.”

“Over my dead body,” she snapped, shrugging off Treville’s hand. “That’s my husband in there, and Sylvie's husband and Aramis’s friend, and little kids and their mums. If everyone else has to wait, I’m going to wait right here too.”

Treville frowned. “So be it.”

Constance’s phone chirped with a text notification. “It’s Charlie.”

_Victim is Laurie Norton, mother of Melanie, one of the child hostages. Everyone else safe_

She showed Treville, who got on the phone to the AFOs again. “Her baby is in there,” she said to Aramis. “She saw her mother murdered.”

“Holy mother of God,” he breathed. “I better let Porthos know. The television will report the shooting and I don’t want Sylvie or Bernie to think it’s Athos.”

He kept an arm around Constance as he texted quickly. Around them, it was mayhem. The families of the hostages were being kept away from the media in a primary school nearby, but there were reporters and television news crews, outside broadcast vans, waiting ambulances, fire engines and at least a dozen marked police cars, as well as the unmarked Armed Response Unit vehicles. The gunshot and screams had sparked a flurry of activity, and radios and mobiles squawked, burbled and rang from every direction.

“Sylvie’s on her way.”

“Okay.” Constance should have insisted Sylvie stayed away. But the idea of having a good friend beside her who knew exactly what she was going through was too much of a comfort to deny. And besides, Sylvie needed someone too. Aramis could watch them collapse together.

*********************************

“I’m all right,” Athos said as D’Artagnan kept glancing at him. He stood and went over to the coat rack.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Robert yelled.

“I’m going to cover Laurie up so her child doesn’t have to keep looking at her body.”

“Sit down.”

Athos ignored him and found Laurie’s coat. He remembered it because it was purple and Annie loved the colour. He laid it over Laurie’s body. Beth was comforting both Melanie and Liam now. The children had long since stopped playing, clinging to the adults and keeping as far away from the angry man as possible.

Athos stood up and found Robert right there in front of him. The man smashed him across the face with the pistol and forced him down onto the chair. “Do what I say or next time I’ll shoot a kid to teach you a lesson.”

Athos pulled out his handkerchief and held it over the welt, brushing aside d’Artagnan’s attempt to help. “Hardly the first or the worst,” he murmured when Robert had moved away. “Ignore me.”

His face hurt like hell, but he could cope with that. It had been worth it to cover Laurie and test Robert’s temper. And if nothing else, if Robert was going to pick another victim, with any luck he would pick Athos for annoying him so much.

His phone vibrated. A text message from Sylvie. _Love you, S_

Athos sent a quick _< 3_ back, then deleted both messages. Anything else might give her false hope.

Robert answered his mobile again. “I said, get her the fuck down here. No, I won’t talk to her on the phone. I’m not having her mess me around. Down here, or someone else dies.” He shoved the phone back in his pocket. “Stupid cunt thinks she can control me. You. Do you let your wife tell you what to do?”

His question was directed at d’Artagnan. “What makes you think I’m married?”

“Wedding ring, moron.”

“Actually, we’re separated. She walked out on me.”

Athos was impressed. He knew this was all crap and he still thought D’Artagnan sounded sincere.

“So you know where I’m coming from, right?”

“Oh yeah. Bitches don’t know their place. But I figured there’s plenty more where she came from, right?”

“Yeah. You got kids?”

“Nah. She wanted to work. Next one, I’ll get pregnant first. Make sure she stays at home. Why are you wasting all your time on this bird anyway? One cunt’s the same as another, right?”

D’Artagnan mimicked the way men with an overbearing sense of entitlement to women spoke so perfectly, Athos had to remind himself that d’Artagnan was a fierce supporter of women’s rights, more so after getting together with Constance, she’d said. He would never use language like this around Annie or other children, but Athos knew he had to get down to Robert’s level to win his trust.

“So you don’t feel like taking a woman’s place if I decide on shooting another one?”

“No, man. I mean, I don’t think you should shoot anyone really. Is she worth going to prison for? Dying for? Really? What, you’re thirty-five or so?”

“Thirty-six.”

“Jesus, then it’s all ahead of you. Giving up your life for a piece of pussy? Come on, that’s ridiculous. Bitches should be the ones giving up their lives for you. They hit thirty and bam, it’s all down hill. Hell, twenty-five and they’re getting loose, you know what I mean?” D’Artagnan gave Robert a sleazy smile. “You should be looking for a nice tight piece. My wife left, and I sure as fuck am not begging her to come back. No way. I just cut her out of my bank accounts and credit cards. She can pay her own fucking mobile phone bill, yeah?”

It was working, Athos thought. Robert’s stance was a little more open, and the pistol down by his side rather than held slightly raised. “She left me. I told her I’d kill her if she left me. I keep my word.”

“And like she cares, right? You doing exactly what you said you would? Waste of time with a cunt like that. Get over her, man. Be like me. I’m out on the pull tonight. Last weekend I had this bitch in my bed, oh yeah, she was tasty. Why tie yourself to one when you can have all of them for free?”

Robert looked at Laurie’s body on the floor, then back at d’Artagnan. “Said I would kill her,” he muttered.

“So? Walk out of here, plead temporary insanity or something, and you can still do it. Not like this. When she’s not expecting it, yeah?” The expression on d’Artagnan’s face turned Athos’s stomach. It was a perfect replica of one he had seen over and over on the abusive men he’d met while still on the force. “Come on, man. You can turn this around even now. I’d even give evidence for you. I’d be like, ‘he was out of his mind, your honour, he didn’t know what he was doing, poor sod’. How about it?”

Robert frowned. “Why? Why would you do that?”

“The bros gotta stick together, right?” D’Artagnan was still sprawled in his seat, totally relaxed and unthreatening. The women were watching with a combination of horror and disgust. Athos kept his expression as neutral as possible. He’d already invalidated his man card as far as Robert’s ilk were concerned. All he had to do was let d’Artagnan carry on with his act.

Robert’s mobile rang again. “Yeah. No. I’m not going to come out to talk to her. She comes in here, alone, or I kill another hostage. Then another one. Then all of them, including the kids.” He put the mobile in his pocket, then raised his gun and pointed it at d’Artagnan. “You shut up. Another word, and I kill that one.” He turned his gun towards Laurie’s daughter, now in Beth’s embrace. Beth clutched the child closer to her, glaring at Robert. He returned to his chair and sat, smirking at all of them.

“Fuck,” d’Artagnan breathed.

“Yeah,” Athos agreed.

*********************************

Brujon had brought coffees over for the three of them, which at least made Constance a bit warmer if no less anxious. Sylvie seemed to be coping better than she was, but that was probably an illusion. Aramis had tried to convince them both to go back to Sylvie’s place, or at least to where the other families were waiting, but Constance couldn’t bear the idea of leaving or being with a mass of other worried spouses and parents.

Treville came over. “How are you both holding up?” he asked.

“What’s happening?” Sylvie asked. “You can’t let his wife go in there, not even if he does blow everyone up. It’d be a license for every abusive loser to try the same trick.”

“Exactly so. He clearly intends to die with her, and I don’t think he cares who else goes with him so long as she does.” He looked at Constance. “Can I have a word?”

He guided her away from the others. “We have a plan involving Charlie but it’s risky. He’s going to distract the guy’s attention at the next deadline, and we’re going to rush the place.”

“Boss, he’s wearing a bomb vest.”

“I know. Athos is going to help. He’s not carrying a detonator according to Charlie so if one of them can stop him activating it manually, we have a chance of getting everyone out safely. I’m just giving you a head’s up. Don’t tell Sylvie.”

“Doesn’t she have a right to know?”

“And that would help her how? We don’t have anything else. He’s already killed one person, and we don’t have another plan. Our snipers can’t get a clear line of sight on him.”

“I understand. How long have we got?”

“Ten minutes. If you’re going to text Charlie, do it quickly. He can’t afford distractions.”

With shaking hands, she typed out a message which she refused to believe would be the last one she sent to her husband. _Proud of you. Love you always. C_

*********************************

They had three minutes to the next deadline. Athos and d’Artagnan had quickly made a plan by exchanging texts. A lot depended on pure luck. That hadn’t worked out so well for Athos the last time he’d dealt with a madman and a bomb. He breathed in, held it, let it out. He had to keep calm.

D’Artagnan texted him one more time.

_Ready?_

Athos replied.

_As I can be_

**2:16**. “It’s time for another choice, ladies and gentlemen,” Robert said. “You. Get up.”

He pointed the gun at Beth. She scrabbled backwards on the floor. “No! Please, don’t do this. You don’t have to do it.”

Athos and d’Artagnan stood and walked in front of Beth, blocking Robert’s view of her. “We can’t let you do this,” d’Artagnan said. “Either pick one of us, or let everyone go.”

“I told you, no one tells me what to do.”

He raised the pistol, turned suddenly and pointed it at Fleur. D’Artagnan flung himself in front of her, while Athos lunged for Robert himself. The gun went off, but Athos ignored it, pinning Robert down and fighting him to keep his hands away from his belt. Someone else was on top of Robert too now. Fleur, Beth, maybe. Athos scrabbled at the wires coming out of the lump of explosive, and pulled them all out. Robert landed a blow on Athos’s head with the butt of the gun, and pushed him off, managing to get to his feet while Athos was dazed.

Another gunshot. Athos’s face was suddenly spattered with blood.

Not his. Robert’s. The man had fallen on his side away Athos. The back of his head was gone. Athos had his brains all over him.

 _D’Artagnan._ Athos started to struggle to his feet. “Nobody move! Stay down!” An [SFO ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Specialist_Firearms_Officer)ran in, with his pistol held ready to fire.

“He’s dead,” Athos said, then pointed. “That’s Robert.”

“DC Charles d’Artagnan, Richmond.” Athos turned. D’Artagnan was sitting up, on his hand was over his shoulder, with blooding coming between his fingers, his police ID in his other hand. “He’s correct. Robert is down. Also, uh, officer needs assistance.”

Athos scrambled across the floor to his friend. “Christ, Charlie, lie down. Get a paramedic in here,” he bellowed at the SFO. “And get the women and children out of here, _now_!”

Another officer was already herding the hostages out, but Beth broke away. “I’m a nurse,” she said, coming back over to kneel at Athos’s side. “Grab that first aid kit.” She pointed to the box on the wall. Athos got up and brought it back to her. She cut away d’Artagnan’s shirt and jacket and Athos put the thickest dressings the box held over the entry and exit wounds.

“You’ll be all right, Charlie,” he told his friend. “You did well.”

“No one else hurt?”

“You’re the only one. Constance is going to murder both of us.”

D’Artagnan grinned, wincing with the pain. “Definitely. You hide me, right?”

“We’ll hide each other. Stay still, you idiot.” D’Artagnan kept trying to sit up and see what was going on. “It’s over. Enjoy the good drugs now.”

Athos didn’t hear the paramedics being ushered in until they knelt beside him to take over from Beth. She and Athos were moved back by the police officers coming in to handle the mess.

Beth threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you,” she cried. “Oh my God, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, my dear.”

“Laurie.” She tried to go back to her dead friend’s side, but a uniformed officer prevented her. “Please. I just want to say good bye.”

Athos got in between Beth and the officer, facing him. “Constable, I’d let her if I were you. What harm can it possibly do now?”

The PC, only a young bloke, nodded. “Be quick, miss.”

Beth knelt down by Laurie’s body and drew back the coat covering her. “Oh fuck,” she said, bowing her head and sobbing.

Athos came and knelt beside her. “Come along, Beth. They have to make the bomb is completely safe. No one can hurt her any more.”

He had blood all over his hands and his face, but at least this time he was allowed to rinse off courtesy of a bottle of mineral water one of the PCs on duty kindly handed him, before his photo was taken by the waiting reporters.

The mothers and children were being greeted and hugged by their frantic families, while paramedics hovered, trying to check if any of them were injured. Athos knew Sylvie was here somewhere, and Constance too, but where....

“Athos!” Sylvie came barrelling out of the mass of cops and reporters towards him. “Athos, oh my God.”

He wrapped his arms around her like he never planned to let her go, which he probably didn’t. She shuddered under his embrace, and cried as he held her head close to his. “Charlie’s injured, love. Where’s Constance?”

“With Treville. Does she know? We have to find her.”

But Constance found them first, walking towards them, her face pale as chalk. “Athos, where’s Charlie?”

“Injured, alive, in good hands. Coming out very soon.” Athos reached out an arm to her and pulled her close. “He’s a very brave young man.”

“He is. Oh!” She wrenched away from his hold, and ran to the gurney being brought out from the centre. Athos saw her grab d’Artagnan’s hand and walk beside the gurney. She was talking to him, which hopefully meant he was talking back.

“Will he be all right?” Sylvie asked.

“Yes. He was shot in the shoulder, which is never terrific, but he’s awake and hasn’t lost too much blood. Annie?”

“Absolutely fine at home. Aramis is here, Porthos is there. Athos, I was so scared.”

“Me too, darling.” He wanted to be with d’Artagnan and Constance, but he couldn't seem to make his legs move.

“Athos, are you all right?”

“Um...could I sit down?” His legs went out from under him rather suddenly and he found himself on the ground.

“Athos! Are you hurt? You’re bleeding. Someone, help me!”

Treville appeared above him. “Sylvie, it’s all right, I’ve got him, love.” Treville knelt down beside him. “Athos, are you injured?”

“No...I just took a knock to the head. Shock, I think.”

Treville lifted his head to shout. “We need paramedics here! God, we were crawling with the sods five minutes ago, where are they now?” He signalled to someone over Athos’s head. Athos let his old boss take charge, and concentrated on holding Sylvie and stopping her from panicking. She’d had more than enough stress today.

“Athos, Sylvie, what’s happening?” Aramis joined them now, hunkering down and peering at Athos. “Are you injured?”

Athos was starting to feel rather embarrassed at all the fuss. “It’s just shock,” he insisted as Aramis looked at the welt on his face, then the bump on his head. “I’m fine.”

“Fine is walking around with good colour in your face, Athos. You’re not doing that.”

Two paramedics arrived, and Athos passed Sylvie over to Aramis while they did their thing. They checked his eyes and his reactions, which were normal, but still wanted to take him into hospital as a precaution. “Bugger that,” he said. “I’m fine.”

“At least see your own doctor,” one of the paramedics said as her colleague began packing up.

“I will,” Athos lied.

“Athos, you should really go—”

Athos interrupted Aramis. “Listen, can you look after Sylvie for a few minutes? Take her away?”

Sylvie crouched down by him. “Athos, I should—”

“Love? I need to talk to John about what happened. I won’t be long.” And by then, Athos hoped he would be able to stand.

He waited until Aramis had drawn Sylvie away. Treville came back with a cup of coffee. “Extra sugars. Drink it.”

Athos obeyed, the coffee easing his thirst. “Thanks, John. Do you want a report?”

“If you can. It can wait though.”

Athos shook his head. “Not sure I’ll want to talk about this again today, or even tomorrow.” He quickly described his and d’Artagnan’s actions from when the man had walked in.

“You realised he was trouble that early?” Treville asked when Athos said he’d sent Samira away with Annie and her son.

“He reminded me very strongly of our High Street bomber. The worst that could have happened if I was wrong, would have been that the kids got a little chilly.”

Treville shook his head. “I knew losing you from the force was a mistake.”

“Too late for regrets now.” Athos finished his report. Treville did not take it well.

“You were only supposed to distract him, not offer yourselves as sacrifices!”

“He was about to shoot Fleur. Anyway, it worked.”

“By the skin of your teeth. I’m going to have words with d’Artagnan though. But good work. Again,” he added wryly.

“My father will be so pleased.”

“Doubt it, but then he’s a complete fool when it comes to you. Come on, you’re worrying your wife.” Treville helped Athos to his feet. “Go to hospital.”

“I will, to see Charlie. If I pass out, then I’ll be in the right place for it.”

“You’re not Superman, Athos.”

“Trust me, John, I’m completely aware of that. Thank you for looking after Sylvie.”

“They looked after each other. When you see Constance, tell her she’s on paid leave for a week, more if she needs it. And please, don’t let it be another hostage situation before I see you again.”

Athos grinned. “No, sir. Sylvie?” Putting his best smile on his face, he walked over where Aramis was keeping Sylvie close and protected. “Aramis, maybe you were right about hospital. We have a Charlie and a Constance to check on.”

Sylvie smiled back. “Of course we do, love. Aramis?”

“This way. Though how long it will take to get out of this mess, I have no idea.”

*********************************

Constance hugged herself. Last time she’d been at this hospital, she’d been the patient. Now it was Charlie. He’d been conscious, which was one thing at least, but he’d been so pale, so young looking. She hadn’t been ready to lose him today to a mad bomber, and she didn’t want to lose him now to a bullet from a mad bomber’s gun.

She heard people coming into the waiting room, and lifted her head. “Athos, Sylvie. Oh, Aramis.” She let them wrap her into a hug, let their warmth take away some of the awful stress in her chest. “He’s in surgery. Why are you here?”

“Because you are,” Sylvie said, helping her to sit down again and taking her hand. “Also Athos has a head injury.”

“Do not.”

Constance glared at him. “Athos! You should get that seen to.”

“Yes, he should,” Aramis said, his hand on Athos’s shoulder. “So while dear Sylvie waits here, I’ll just take our hero around to see the nice doctors in the ER.”

“Traitor.” Athos looked grumpy, but also a bit pale and battered, and on the whole, Constance thought Aramis was right to be worried.

“This way,” Aramis said sweetly, pushing Athos along. Time was when Athos was too passive, too easily led around. It was good to see him stand up for himself like this.

“Will he be all right?” Constance asked.

Sylvie made a face. “Aramis is being cautious but even the paramedics only recommended it as a precaution. It’s mainly shock, he says. Charlie?”

“Just the gunshot wound to his shoulder. No one else was hurt, were they?”

“Don’t think so. I didn’t see anyone else being treated. How long did they say he’d be in surgery?”

“An hour or so.”

Sylvie squeezed her hand. “Don’t stay up here once you see him, Constance. Let him rest, and you come back with us. You don’t want to be alone.”

“No, I don’t. I’m so glad you were here today. You might have been better off with the other families but I couldn’t bear the idea.”

“Me either. I don’t know how Athos ended up injured though. Did Charlie say anything?”

Constance bit her lip. “You’re going to hate me, or murder Charlie. Treville arranged for the two of them to distract the guy while the armed response officers moved in.”

“Arranged for...Athos? But he’s not a cop any more.”

“Yes. That’s why I said you’d hate me. Treville told me just before. Told me not to tell you and worry you. It had all been arranged by then.”

Sylvie stiffened. “Athos is a civilian.”

“Yes, but also an former police officer. They were desperate, Sylvie. Charlie couldn’t have done it on his own or they would never have involved Athos.”

Sylvie breathed out through her nose, like she was trying to find patience. “Athos would have involved himself anyway, I think. You’re right. I’m going to kill someone. I’m trying to decide whether it’s Athos or John Treville.”

“Neither. Please, Sylvie. Once a cop, always a cop in some ways. They might all be dead if those two hadn’t done what they did.”

Sylvie patted her arm, though she was clearly still angry. “I know. I wasn’t in the room. But Athos is going to explain himself on this one. He’s a dad now, and a husband.”

“So’s Charlie. Or nearly. Maybe, anyway.” Sylvie cocked her head, confused. “It was on the to-do list for today. Buy a pregnancy test.”

“Oh my God. I didn’t know you were even trying.”

“He said he didn’t want to wait, and I’m thirty-one in two months’ time.” She wiped her eyes. “S’pose I could even do it now if the pharmacy’s open.”

Sylvie hugged her. “Oh love, that’s wonderful. I’ll go with you if you want to do it while you’re waiting.”

“Why the hell not?”

Sylvie grinned, and pulled out her phone. “I’ll tell Aramis we’ll be gone a few minutes. There. Now let’s find the pharmacy.”

If this day could get any weirder, Constance didn’t know how. At least it was a good sort of weird, and she _had_ been planning to pick up a test on the way home. They two of them giggled like schoolgirls buying fags as she paid for the thing. “Now, a loo.”

She stared at the result. She blinked, and looked at it again. She flushed the toilet and came out. “Preggers,” she said as she washed her hands.

Sylvie whooped and grabbed her into a hug. “Oh, Constance, congratulations!”

“I’m pregnant. Bloody hell.”

Sylvie made Constance look at her. “Are you happy to be? Because no one has to know until you’re ready. This isn’t your only chance.”

“I know. But I want this. Even if it doesn’t work out, I’ll keep trying. We both want to be parents.”

“Then go for it.” Sylvie hugged her again. “This will be the best get well present ever for Charlie.”

“If the shock doesn’t kill him outright. Don’t tell Athos or Aramis, okay? Charlie needs to be the first to know.”

“Of course. Let’s get go find them again.”

*********************************

They waited with Constance until d’Artagnan was out of surgery, and the operation declared a success. At that point, Aramis suggested Constance stayed with him and Porthos that evening, and that Aramis drove Athos and Sylvie home and then came back to be with Constance until she was ready to leave.

Athos was more than ready to be home by then. He had a shocking headache and his face hurt. Also, Sylvie had learned about Athos’s involvement in the last ditch plan the AFOs had come up with, and as he could have predicted, was none too happy with anyone involved, regardless of the success of the operation.

Since he’d been enduring a waking nightmare of her being widowed before nightfall and having to deal with the aftermath of a disastrous outcome, he felt her being angry and him being alive was an acceptable alternative.

Porthos nearly crushed them to death when they walked in. “Jesus, you enjoy frightening me to death, Athos.”

“Sorry. I’ll try not to do it again.”

Porthos ruffled his hair and muttered, “Better not.”

Annie squealed to see her mother again, and him. “Thos,” she demanded as Sylvie held her.

He stroked her hair. “I’m here, baby girl. Everything’s all right.” Bernie watched them from the kitchen door. “Really,” he said for her benefit. “Bar a couple of bumps and bruises.”

“That better be the case,” Bernie said.

Athos shook Porthos’s hand. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. Now we’ll make sure Constance is okay too.”

“I’m sure Charlie will appreciate it.”

*********************************

Sylvie clearly wanted to talk to him about the day’s events, but she also realised Athos was suffering. She gave him Panadol and a cup of tea, and told him to take himself to bed while she handled Annie.

He couldn’t sleep—was afraid to, if he was honest—so lay on the bed staring at the ceiling, trying and failing not to see Laurie’s body in his mind’s eye. He’d seen more brutal deaths, and ones just as up front and personal, but that didn’t make this one any less horrifying.

After a bit, Sylvie came in, closing the door behind her. “Brought you some supper. You probably haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“No.” And he _was_ hungry, so the toasted ham and cheese sandwiches hit the spot. She watched him as he ate, her hand on his ankle.

“I want to yell at you,” she said after a bit. “I mean, really, really yell. But you’re not feeling well, and at least you’re alive. And you saved my baby girl. So I want to kiss you and tell you how much I love you, but I also want to kill you.”

Athos grinned. “Seems fair.”

She smacked his leg. “It’s not funny. Tell me everything.”

“Nothing much to tell. He’d already killed Laurie. When Charlie was asked if he could create a diversion near the next deadline, we both knew that we had to stop the man killing another person, so we stood in front of the woman he chose. The guy tried to shoot someone else, Charlie dove in front of her, I tackled the guy.”

She touched his face. “What happened?”

“I upset him because I insisted on covering Laurie’s body. He hit me on the head when we were fighting as well.”

“And you upset the man with the gun, why?”

“To make him choose me, instead one of the mothers.”

Her lips thinned. “On the news just now, one of the mothers said you tried to make the gunman shoot you, but he shot Laurie anyway. So you tried _twice_?”

“Me or a mother in front of her kid. Easy choice for me.”

“Did it occur to you what that would do to me and Annie and Mum and Porthos?”

“Every second, Sylvie.”

“And you did it _again_? Do you really not care about your own health at all? Is suicide still better than living?”

Athos stared. “You think that’s why I did it?”

“I think you still don’t realise how much we need you.” Her voice shook and tears fell down her cheeks as she took his hands. “I think you still don’t understand that you mean as much as anyone else does to their families, you’re worth as much, deserve to live just as much. You think your life was less than one of theirs? Why? For God’s sake, Athos? _Why_?”

“Because little kids need their mothers more than their stepdad? I wasn’t thinking that coldly, darling. I did it because....”

Her head snapped up. “Because? It’s your job? It’s your duty?”

“Because it’s who I am. I’m sorry. I’d do it again given the same situation.”

She flung herself into his arms. “I hate that you could have died.”

“I wasn’t too thrilled with the idea either, love. But he was going to kill _someone_ , and I didn’t want one of the kids to see their mother killed. Unfortunately I failed.”

She hit his shoulder and sat back to glare at him through tear-drenched lashes. “This is not your fault, Athos! Don’t you _dare_ try and carry guilt for this. Everyone who got out owes you and Charlie their _lives_.”

“Actually they owe—” She hit him again, hard. “Ow.”

“You are a fucking _idiot_.” She clutched at him again. “You didn’t _fail_. You didn’t succeed. Different. _He_ killed her. Not you.”

“Not me,” he agreed quietly. “Keep seeing her. Keep...feeling what it was like, waiting for him to shoot me.”

“You are not going to lose everything you’ve won back. Not this time.” She held his face in her hands and shook him gently. “You need counselling, therapy? We get it. You won’t go back the way you were. I won’t bloody let you. _Porthos_ won’t let you.”

“I won’t,” he said. “I just...might be a bit rough for a bit.”

“Totally allowed. I’m off tomorrow and then it’s the weekend. We’re going to spend it together, and with our friends, and we’re all going to get through this, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He captured her hand and kissed the palm.

“How do you feel?”

“Still a bit crap. Headache’s better. I’m exhausted though.”

“Want me to lie down with you?”

“Please. Is Annie down?”

“Nearly. Mum’s got it. Back in a tick.” She went out with the plate, and probably to clean her teeth before bed.

She was right about him, he knew. He _didn’t_ see his life as worth more than any of the women at the centre today, more than Laurie’s. More than the children’s. He would always put them first because he’d had his chances. They had yet to have theirs. How could he let a child like Annie, who hadn’t even begun to reach her potential, to die before him, a man who’d had the opportunity for life, second chances and everything? He would do the same again, every single time. He couldn’t not do it.

Sylvie would learn to accept it. He had faith in her, and faith in her love for him. It would hurt, but she was stronger than him. It would never break her. He would give his life for hers too. She was the best of them.

He hoped he would never have to make the choice again, though. He was getting far too old for this shit.

*********************************

Treville called her at eight am, waking her up after a broken night full of worries, hopes and bad dreams. “Constance, I’m about to abuse my privilege as a police officer and go up to see Charlie. Want a lift?”

“Yes, I really do.” Her car was still at the station, she’d heard Aramis and Porthos leave for work, and she was desperate to see her husband. Aramis had kindly let her pick up a few things from the flat before whisking her back to his place, to let Porthos use his giant teddybear superpowers to help her calm down and deal with the day’s events. “Give me ten minutes?”

“Have twenty. At Aramis’s, right?”

“Yes. Thanks, sir.”

Her boss looked as ragged as she did. “No sleep?” she asked.

“Not a lot. You always hope these things will end without a death, but this one didn’t. I wasn’t running things, but I still feel like I had some responsibility.”

“You didn’t, guv. Now Charlie and his idiot mate, that’s a different matter. He wasn’t supposed to get _shot_.”

Treville raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I told Athos what I thought about that. He refused to apologise. I suspect d’Artagnan will feel the same.”

“It did work, though.”

“That’s the only thing saving him from a suspension and an arsekicking, Constance.” He glanced at her. “All right. Not a suspension. I’m serious about the kicking.”

“Me too.”

Treville used a combination of charm and firm insistence to let them be allowed to see Charlie long before official visiting hours had started. He was awake and looking disconsolately out of the window when they arrived. His hospital breakfast sat largely untouched on the table. He smiled when he realised who had come in.

Constance went to him and kissed him. “That’s for making it through surgery.” She gently mock-slapped his cheek. “And that’s for worrying the life out of me with your stupid plan.”

“Stupid plan that worked, DS Bonacieux. Hi, guv.”

“D’Artagnan. How’s the shoulder?”

“You know. Perforated. Not as bad as it could be, but it’ll be a couple of months before it’s back to normal.”

“Longer than that, most likely. I know we agreed you needed Athos’s help, but did you have to put him in the actual line of fire?”

Charlie shrugged, then winced extravagantly, mouthing ‘Ow’. “It was the best we could do, given he was actually killing people. You weren’t there, sir.”

“No, I wasn’t. Athos has given me his report, and now I want to hear it from you. _Everything_ , constable. Constance? Do you want to hear this?”

“Oh yes,” she said, giving her significant other a significant look. D’Artagnan cringed a little. _Yeah, you’re in trouble, Charlie. No getting out of it this time._

She hadn’t known that Athos had tried to take the dead woman’s place as chosen victim. “He moved too fast for me,” Charlie admitted, shamefacedly. “I should have offered.”

“No, he was right,” Treville said. “He told me he wanted you there to try and manage the situation, if it had to be either of you.”

“Yeah, but....”

“Charlie, Athos had more experience as an officer than you, and he’s also been in this position before,” Constance said.

“Thank you, Constance,” Treville said. “But I need you to....”

“Shutting up, sir. Sorry.”

He patted her arm. “She’s right, by the way. Carry on, d’Artagnan.”

Charlie said he and Athos had discussed throwing something or setting off an alarm to distract the man, but there was a risk he would still fire the gun in anger. “And to be honest, he wasn’t the distractable kind. We could annoy him, but he was so focussed on what he’d set out to do. He wasn’t a raving nutter or anything like that. He was really clinical about it. He was even enjoying himself. He enjoyed killing Laurie.”

“Jesus,” Treville muttered. “And you were shot how?”

“I threw myself in front of the woman he was trying to shoot. You’d have done the same.”

“Yes, I would. And Athos’s injuries?”

“He kept pissing the guy off, so he pistol whipped him. Was he hurt again? I didn’t see.”

“Just hit with the gun. He’s fine.” Treville made a face. “Okay, now you’ve explained it—you’ve both explained it—I see you really didn’t have a choice, other than to let someone be killed. I have to explain this all to the higher ups, you see. Including Athos’s father, who is demanding to know how his ‘brave son’ came to be involved.”

Constance made a gagging gesture. “Wanker,” she muttered. “Sorry, sir.”

“I definitely didn’t hear anything, sergeant. But I agree totally with what I didn’t hear.”

Charlie grinned. “So, you’re not mad at me any more, Constance?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because...the boss just said....”

“The _boss_ isn’t bloody _married_ to you. And isn’t the father of our baby.” She pulled out the pregnancy test and put it on the bed where he could see it.

“You’re pregnant? Really? Already?” Was that panic in his eyes?

“Yes, really, already.” Treville was trying hard not to laugh. “But we don’t have to right now if you don’t want—”

“Are you joking? Yes! I do want! Constance, I love you.”

She leaned in and kissed him. “And I love you, you thrill-seeking idiot.” She carded her fingers through his hair. “Do not do that to me again. Well, not soon anyway.”

“I won’t. Won’t be able to,” he added cheekily. But then his expression changed. “There was one thing...Constance, you need to know...I was trying to win his confidence. I pretended I wasn’t married...I mean, that I was separated...and that I hated strong women, that I just wanted good sex. I said some horrible stuff. I didn’t mean it,” he said, twisting to look at her. “Ow, _fuck_.” He put his hand over his bad shoulder. “I need to stop doing that.”

“Yes, you do. You don’t need to worry about it, Charlie. I know what you were trying to do, and Athos would have as well.”

“Sir, could you find a way to tell the women who were there...they probably think I’m a pig.”

Treville shook his head, smiling. “No, they don’t. Give them some credit. Three of them have already sent messages of thanks to you and Athos to the station. The other one went on TV to tell everyone what you did.”

“Oh. Good. I was worried. I hope the kids don’t remember it.”

“They won’t remember any of it, probably,” Constance said. “Sir, are we done?”

“Yes, we are. D’Artagnan, do you need anything?”

Charlie grabbed her hand. “This.”

Treville grinned. “Then that’s all taken care of. Constance, let me know when he gets out.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

He grunted and stood. “See you both later.”

Charlie drew her attention back to him. “When did you find out?”

“Last night. I had time to kill so Sylvie suggested I buy a test here and use it. You realise the pregnancy might not succeed. One in four don’t.”

“I know. But wow. A baby. We’re ready for this, right?”

“Oh yes. So don’t get shot again, okay?”

His fingers brushed a faint long scar on her cheek. “You aren’t to get _stabbed_ again either.”

“All right, _touché_.” She bent and kissed him. “Want me to find you some breakfast you can actually eat?”

“Please marry me and have my babies? Oops, you already did.”

She tugged his hair. “Cheek. Let me see what I can do for you. May as well enjoy me waiting on you hand and foot now. Won’t be a lot of that in nine months’ time.”

“‘S all right. We’ll train the kids to wait on us. That’s what my parents did. Housework, cooking, gardening. Have enough of them and you’ll never need to lift a finger again.”

“There’s a flaw in that plan but I can’t _quite_ see what it is. Wait for me. I’ll be back soon.”

“Forever, Constance. I will wait for you forever.”

 _Sappy_ , she thought, grinning as she walked away. Just how she liked him.

**Author's Note:**

> All comments, criticisms and corrections craved :)


End file.
